


Two Souls, Alas

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mind Meld, Multi, Permanent Mind Control of Aware Victim, Possession, Sexual Content, Uninformed Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: Trapped in his own body, Martin can do nothing but watch.





	Two Souls, Alas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacehopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/gifts).



In bed, Elias abandoned Martin’s fumbling hesitancy, the carefully calculated act that always made Martin feel like the spectator of a bad play, trying to figure out whether it was the acting that was flawed or the character. Maybe it was harder for Elias to pretend, when there were no sleeves to theatrically fidget around with or tea cups to make clatter against saucers. Or maybe Elias considered it the natural conclusion of all the little changes he’d effected over the past couple of months, always one step at a time, a subtle transformation that did not arouse any suspicion. A haircut that made him look more mature. An improved posture, emphasising his height instead of hiding it. New shoes. A different cologne, though not the one Elias had favoured before Melanie had slit his throat.

But it was that exact cologne he was wearing now, an irresistible urge to play with fire or perhaps some leftover vanity from his previous life, and utter satisfaction had coursed through his veins when Jon had inhaled deeply during their greeting, pressing himself closer to his body in a way that had made Martin’s jealousy flare up. But as Elias had told him when he’d first asked out Jon, what reason did Martin have to be jealous? They were Martin Blackwood now, together. The sooner he accepted that, the easier it would be.

Martin would never accept Elias as a part of himself. He did not want to allow himself to do so, would not allow his mind to merge with the amalgamation of personalities that had once been Elias Bouchard, been the Heads of the Magnus Institute before him, been Jonah Magnus, no matter how enticing he tried to make it seem. There were already enough days where Martin felt he was losing himself. Waking up in a bedroom that might as well have been in an entirely different flat for how much Elias had changed it and going about his day like nothing was wrong before the awareness of his situation hit him. Before he realised his body was not actually following his orders with a jolt that sent his thoughts into a panicked frenzy every time, while his mind was so disconnected from his flesh that not even his heartbeat changed.

Then there were those little habits Elias displayed that Martin wasn’t sure he’d had before, like drinking a last cup of tea before bed, sipped sitting on the windowsill, a shoulder against the cool glass, while he stared out into the streets and the night sky that glowed faintly orange with light pollution. Except Elias did not look at the streets or the sky, his gaze directed somewhere far distant, passing over a flood of images from different places.

Images he had shared with Martin before, in the confines of his office, accompanied by praise for his aptitude for Watching. The memory was fresh like a wound that would not close, one that Martin kept picking at over and over again. Worry about Jon had led him to Elias, knocking at his door late one evening, when everyone else had already gone home, and Jon had still been in China. He’d wanted to know why he wouldn’t let any of them help him.

“Because I need you here, Martin,” Elias had said, and Martin’s nervous fidgeting had stilled. His breathing had stilled, while his heart had been beating faster and faster. And later that night, he’d turned the phrase over in his head, looking for hidden meanings behind his intonation, behind the words he’d chosen to emphasise, or had Martin only imagined it, that brief pause after “I”? But it was that one sentiment that had him returning within only a matter of days, driven by a dangerous curiosity, by an eagerness he hadn’t quite understood and attributed to Jon, because it had always been about Jon, but now he wondered if maybe it had not.

He’d believed it had been for Elias, however, even if at the time, he’d not understood how deep it went. Because more often than not, Elias was focusing his attention on Jon, pushing the flurry of impressions aside. Watching him at work or working at home, tirelessly trying to throw a wrench into his plans, while Elias stirred and guided him away from easy answers and towards, what he believed it would be in the end – as Jon fell deeper under the influence of the Eye and didn’t realise that the hand he tried holding onto was the one leading him down this path – a common goal.

The same way he easily guided Jon now. Just the slightest brush of his fingertip, from Jon’s collarbones to the side of his jaw, and he bared his throat for Elias, tilting his head the way Elias wordlessly ordered him to, so he could sink his teeth into a spot that made Jon moan and shiver.

Elias kept finding those spots with the familiarity of someone reading their favourite book, knowing which pages to turn with care, which passages to linger on. And it seemed to be the lingering he enjoyed the most, not letting up until bruises were blossoming beneath his lips and teeth, and sometimes, not even then, not when Jon’s fingers tangled in his hair and kept him close. Until Elias took hold of his wrist and pressed it against the mattress as he pressed his own body eagerly against Jon’s, and when he let go, Jon’s hand remained where it was, like it was held there by an invisible chain.

Did Elias really know all of that just from observation? From watching Jon’s fingers find those places after tense hours of work, in search of some fleeting relief? Or had he explored Jon’s body before, time and time again without ever tiring of it, to the point that he seemed more familiar with it than the one he was inhabiting?

Elias concealed the answer, and Martin fell deeper into a spiral of jealousy, mingled with shame – thinking of himself when he should have been thinking of Jon. Jon, who did not recognise him. Jon, who could See and did not See Elias inside him. Or was this what had drawn Jon nearer in the first place? All their planning against him, when Jon had never stopped following his lead. Had his eternal frustration with Elias masked his desire to know more about him, to get closer to him? Martin hated himself for this line of thought.

After all, hadn’t Jon and Martin been the ones to get closer to each other? He remembered cherishing the unexpected moments of kindness, with a hint of awkwardness that had made them genuine. The casual conversations between flights. The phone calls that had allowed Jon to show his concern more openly, not having to fear the effect of his questions. And hadn’t Jon confided in Martin? When Martin had been the one to seek out Elias behind his back, behind everyone’s back, at least until he’d found out what he’d done to Melanie. Elias, the only one who’d understood how important Jon was. Elias, who had single-handedly tarnished every one of those memories with the truth he’d forced onto Martin, which still bubbled to the forefront when his eyes passed the few pale rectangles in his flat where the few pictures he had of his mother used to hang. Pictures that Elias had tossed away carelessly along with most of Martin’s possessions, something Martin might have done himself eventually if Elias had given him the choice, a chance to deal with situation.

But he’d taken that away too, the same way he had stolen Martin’s body and his life, erased every trace of Martin from his own home when he could have just abandoned it instead and turned him into a stranger before everyone else’s eyes. And now he was toying with Jon and manipulating him, when he showed him such trust. When he readily talked to him about his powers and his dreams, while Elias listened with an expression of concern, a gentle hand on Jon’s, and a sickening satisfaction that bordered on ecstasy rushing to his head, flooding his system so that Martin was forced to partake in it too. But there was something else beneath it all, Martin could feel it, and it frightened him deeply, almost more than if it was all just a petty whim on Elias’s part.

Muscles taut with tension, Jon gripped the pale grey sheets when Elias pushed slick fingers into him. Elias stroked a soothing hand along his thigh, coaxing him into opening his legs wider for him, waiting until he relaxed. Patience and gentleness like spun glass, while Martin could feel the pulsing ache of his erection, the desire that thrummed through his entire body, his entire being, to sink himself deep into his Archivist.

His _Archivist._

The thought echoed hysterically through his mind as Elias lined himself up kneeling before Jon, and before Martin could have even attempted to stop him, he pushed inside. And Martin lost all grip on his thoughts because this was Jon who writhed beneath him, who breathed out his name before cutting himself off with a gasp, who took him in hot and tight and deep. Martin’s mind was empty of conflict and fear and shame and only filled with Jon, Jon, Jon, and his body easily obeyed his urges, chasing completion with every thrust into this man who was precious to him in ways he couldn’t even fathom. And when he found it, he nearly wanted to weep with joy.

He tried to pull out before turning his attention back to Jon, but Elias refused to move, breaking any illusion of control. Instead, Elias pulled Jon closer so that their bodies met, a bruising grip on Jon’s jerking hips, and took a couple of moments to enjoy the sensation. A sensation that Martin had always found overwhelming and on the wrong side of the line between pleasure and pain, but Elias seemed to relish it, the way Jon twitched and shivered around his overstimulated, softening cock. A connection that allowed him to feel his every tiniest movement with an intoxicating intensity.

“Please-“ Jon breathed out, and Elias made a low noise of pure contentment as he reached for Jon’s hand and led it to his cock, keeping their fingers entangled as he started stroking it. A movement tempered by gentleness, it quickly descended into frenzy as Elias yielded more control to Jon. And Martin could feel Elias enjoy every second of it, his gaze locked with Jon’s when he came over their linked hands, shuddering around Elias with pleasure.

Elias leaned over Jon to kiss him in his still breathless state. The touch of their lips was tender and intimate, and Martin felt even more like a helpless bystander in his own body than before.

He wondered whether this was the way Jon would have felt if he’d walked ever into the office during the many times Elias had been teaching Martin to Watch, or so he’d believed. Warm hands on his shoulders, distracting him with kindness, distant images before his eyes and praise, while slipping bits and pieces of his mind into Martin’s head, until what had died in his office had been nothing but a nearly empty shell.


End file.
